Moby WTF

 Written 4/12/16 6:25 PM

Several Palm Sundays ago I woke with an urge to see the ocean. It was a sunny day. The Hamptons were too far away for a day trip, however Rockaway Beach was close. When I told my roommate about the excursion,  Vladmar laughed at me, "Rockaway Beach not ocean. It is song from Ramones."

"It's enough of the ocean for me." Sea gulls and waves and a greasy green sea. "You want to come?"

"For what? To see garbage float in water." Vladmar lit a cigarette and went out on the deck. 

"See you later." I walked to the subway stop and caught the L train to Broadway Junction. 

Less than an hour after leaving Graham Avenue the A train crossed the Broad Channel. 

Several fishing boats trawled the current at the bridge. 

I got off at the next stop and strolled down a desolate street to the beach. The wind blew from the west. A young man flew a kite. Seagulls flirted with the string. Gentle swells cordoroyed the ocean. 

I could feel the chill in the water and turned my face to the sun.

Sun, sea, wind, and earth.

The four elements.

The horizon was slabbed with low-lying fuel tankers. A single surfer rode the waves. A black object bobbed in the water. At first I thought it was a large piece of flotsam i.e. floating debris versus jetsam, something which has been jettisoned by a ship's crew. 

The object dipped under a wave and then reappeared fifty feet away. This flotsam moved fast and had a small fin. Too small to be a shark.

"A whale."

Thar she blows.

A whale in New York City.

I watched the cetacean for several minutes. No one else on the beach noticed its passage. They were busy on their cellphone or texting SMS. I called Vladmar.

"I saw a whale."

"No way you see a whale."

"Yes, I swear I did."

Vladmar hung up on me and phoned several other friends who said I must have been hallucinating about Moby Dick. I can't remember ever reading Melville tome, even though I can recall the first line.

"Call me Ishmail."

It is not my name.

A whale on a flashback. I wasn't sure of what I had seen, but on Wednesday the NY Times confirmed that a humpback whale had been wandering the waters off the Verrazano Narrows. Vladmar apologized and asked, "You have picture?"

"No." The whale had been too far off shore and my camera is a cheap Cannon. "I only have it in my head."

And that's where it will stay.

Moby What the Fuck.

The Coming of Horseshoe Crabs

I have long been fascinated by horseshoe crabs since my childhood on the New England shores. These prehistoric creatures have existed forever following the rythymn of the moon to benefit from the high tide dragging them out of the water onto the sand to hatch their eggs and fornicate with groups of males who fertilize the eggs in the shallows. At the end of the new moon the high tide sweeps the newborns into the sea. The horseshoe crab is not the only animal to be found in swarms on the beach at this time of year. Their eggs are a critical food source for migrating shorebirds like the Red Knot flying from the Arctic to South America. 17000 miles. Pitstopping in Jamaica Bay as they have since the end of the last Ice Age.

Last week I spotted their empty shells on the Montauk beaches. They don't swim well in the waves and prefer estuarine coves. The same place year after year. NAvy Beach in Montauk.

This coming week the hordes will arrive from the depths of the ocean on the new moon. I have contacted the NYC parks department and they were nice enough to tell about the most popular mating sites. Plum Beach off the Belt Parkway is the best.

The city's Park department has predicted June 9 for their arrival.

I shall be there to greet them.

Their eggs are a critical food source for migrating shorebirds like the Red Knot flying from the Arctic to South America. 17000 miles. Pitstopping in Jamaica Bay as they have since the end of the last Ice Age.

After the full moon fornication event they disappear into the depths of the oceans. Where? Not a mystery.__

A secret__

To homo sapiens, but not Neanderthals their partners through eternity___

This now is just another season of breeding__

ps Rene Decartes deemed animal unintelligent, since they couldn't tell time. Obviously he knew nothing of the horseshoe crabs who migrate to breed on the same beaches at the same time every year. Feh, rationalism versus the punctuality of horseshoe crabs.

Thousands of Feet Sand

Thousands of feet pummel the beach.
At the edge of the sea
Only mine
Erased by the waves
Smooth sand.

RAINY SEASON by Peter Nolan Smith

Last week New York was scorched by a heat wave. The temperature ranged from 95 in the shade to 110 on the tar. I hid out in the 169 Bar, but decided to leave the comfort of my favorite to take the ferry to Rockaway Beach.

I called Geoffrey.

He was always up for the beach.

I said I would meet him at the Kerry Hills.

No millenials went there.

They were only zombie victims.

The ferry was fast.

We passed under the Verranzano Bridge.

Entering the Broad Channel the air grew cool.

Only a barrier island separated us from the Atlantic.

Even the millenials were happy to be out of the city.

I met Geoffery at 116th Street. THe Kerry Hills had been closed by the City. We bought a pint of Georgi Vodka and two bottles of Lemonade. It was a good mix and the two of us proceeded to the beach.

The wind was strangely strong, but died after the dunes.

Neither of us wanted to be around people and proceeded to the right.

The beach wasn't very crowded and we set up two lifeguards down from 116th Street.

"I've made loved with my boyfriend in all the lifeguard chairs. From here to Riis Park."

I was jealous. I hadn't seen my Thai wife in over a year, but I was also at the beach. My people were from the ocean.

Geoffrey and I swan for an hour. The waves were tall and the water was clean.

"I love this," said Geoffrey. He was young.

"I love it too."

I was much older.

At six the lifeguards blew their whistles.

No one left the water.

The day was too delicious to obey the law.

The park guard wanted everyone out of the water.

He was so uncool, except not many people nowadays know how to swimming and the undertow was treacherous.

We waited for everyone to leave and went back in the water.

The Atlantic belonged to us.

"Look behind you." The rising wind whipped across the water.

With good reason.

A storm was coming and coming fast.

The seagulls fled the sky.

"It's the apocalypse," shrieked Geoffrey. His ultimate goal was to send remaining millenials into a panic.

Competing against vapid narcissism was a waste of time.

We caught the A train to Brooklyn.

The rain pounded the tracks.

The rain hasn't stopped yet.

I fell asleep wishing I was with Cher.

She was no millennial.

Not even in the beginning of the rainy season and the temperature was only 65.

With winter not far away.

Away To Rockaway

This last winter had overrun the Spring into late-April.

I wore my cold weather gear well into the month.

The snow lingered in the shadows.

Finally the season gave up the ghost.

And then the snow was gone.

Flowers bloomed in Brooklyn.

Ice cream trucks came out of hiding.

Trees bore the pink shade of May.

It was Spring at last and I called my young friend, Geoffery, about taking a trip to Rockaway Beach. he was recently unemployed and it was a sunny day, although not warm.

"`I don't have anything better to do."

"Me neither."

My job with Handsome Dave was over for the time being.

We had shipped his sculptures to Germany and organized his studio.

After two weeks of awful work condition, I could use a little sea, sun, and sand.

Geoffery took the ferry.

I rode the A train.

We met at Roger's Bar for a beer.

The darkness was comforting, but we had come for the beach.

Exiting from the bar onto 116th Street I smelled the ocean on the afternoon air.

The Sand Bar had been devastated by Hurricane Sandy.

There were no plans to re-open the venerable dive bar.

It was a sad thought.

The beach entrance was wide.

Geoffery posed in the sun.

I told him he looked like Peter O'Toole in LAWRENCE OF ARABIA.

"That's a little bit of a push, but thank you."

The broad strand was peopled by a small Mexican family; a mother, father, and daughter in a bathing suit.

The temperature was about 65.

Waves rushed the shore with clear eddies.

The skyline of Rockaway appeared deserted by everyone living.

I couldn't resist the call of the Atlantic.

I waded into the ocean.

Up to my knees.

"How was it," asked an older black man in shorts.

"Not too bad."

The water never warmed up through the summer.

Dennis had been burned out of his apartment in October.

"I escaped with nothing. The Red Cross put me into a shelter out here. I didn't leave the room all winter.

"It was a cold winter," said Geoffery and the three of us nodded in assent.

"But today is nice."

Dennis joined me in the shallows.

He spoke of a wife in Staten Island.

"She has a Mercedes. I have nothing, but I do like a taste of Hennessey."

I offered him a Corona beer. It wasn't cold.

Dennis waved off the bottle.

"I like my beer cold."

The light was fading from the day.

We bid Dennis farewell.

"You have a good Spring."

"You too, Dennis."

Geoffery headed to the ferry landing.

I rode the bus to Broad Channel.

Flowers shivered in the night breeze.

The train tracks stretched south to Rockaway.

I would be there again.

But not this month.